Page 20 of Devil May Lie

“Why would I?” Madden sounded confused, and when Berga risked turning to him, he looked that way as well.

With a sigh, he pushed past him and snatched the paper towels, cleaning himself as best he could. Once he was satisfied, he offered the roll to Madden, noticing the guy's hair in disarray. Before he could help it, Berga’s fingers were delving through the silky strands, combing them over as his lips parted with a contented sigh.

Shit.

Madden’s gaze was different now, more acute, like he was attempting to see straight into Berga’s soul.

“I’m late for class.” He wasn’t. His next class wasn’t for another three hours, but if he didn’t get out of here, he would make the mistake of asking if they could go another round, and then he most definitely would be.

Berga turned his attention to putting his clothes back on, not realizing that Madden hadn’t moved from that spot until he came to his shirt and recalled the buttons had been ruined. “Damn it. How inconvenient.”

There was another shirt in his car.

In his car, which was far away from the Royal still staring at him.

“I’ve got to go. Make sure the door is shut all the way so it locks.” He took a step toward it and then paused. “Oh. Keep your promise about the video. This makes us even, Mad King. If you try to say otherwise later on, I really will liquify your insides.”

Berga didn’t wait around for confirmation, leaving without another word.

He was halfway to the parking lot before he remembered the come stains he’d left on the floor in his haste.

This was a mess in more ways than one.

Chapter 5:

There was a method to most types of madness; it was just the pattern typically alluded people. Berga was a pro at seeking out those threads, following them to the root of the problem so he could better understand what he was dealing with.

His own threads were chaotic, just like his friends in the Satellite accused him of being, mostly because they didn’t know any better. Though he liked to take people apart from the inside out, Berga’s resting state of being was actually calm—perhaps it was more akin to the calm before the storm, but it was calm nonetheless.

He did not feel that way now, however. Hadn’t been able to achieve that usual level of internal stillness since leaving the Mad King in his lab the other day.

And it was pissing him off.

This wasn’t at all what he’d intended when he’d first drugged Madden. It should have been quick, a passing moment they both either forgot about or let go. Nothing lasting. Nothing this…distracting.

Not even the whimpers and screams from the other room were helping to ease the bubbling sensation within him.

“Should they be making that much noise?” Yuze, the only other person in the room with him, asked. He’d been busy using the tip of a sharp blade to clean underneath his nails, but now he scowled at the locked door that separated them from the prisoners.

Test subjects, Berga preferred to call them.

There were only three at the moment, and one of them wasn’t even from this planet. He’d messed with one of their trade routes and been brought in for questioning. That’s who Yuze was here for, asking if Berga had successfully gotten him to answer any of their questions in the twelve hours since he’d been dropped off.

They were in the Bunker, the secret building that acted as both a holding cell, laboratory, and training ground for the Brumal. Berga’s domain was buried deep, the second to last layer, and required a keycode and a hand scan in the elevator to get to. Even if one of his prisoners managed to escape their cell—which had never happened before—they wouldn’t make it very far.

“Probably not,” Berga replied, running a hand through his hair. When he felt the goggles on his head, he clicked his tongue and pulled them off, tossing them onto his desk. The computer monitor showed his latest work, a DNA strand for Vitals twisting on the screen, and there were papers strewn about, making it nearly impossible to find anything.

The clutter was also unlike him. He was usually meticulous.

This was getting cumbersome.

“Shouldn’t you, like,” Yuze pointed to the door with the weapon, “check on them?”

“Probably.” He made no moves to do so.

Yuze sighed. “Got anything for me or not, Butcher? The sound is starting to grate my last nerve.”

“Here.” Berga shoved things around until he found the thin tablet he was after, holding it out to Yuze, who was forced to give up his perch on the table across the room and come over to take it. “That’s everything I was able to get out of him. If I continue, he won’t last the night.”

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